Putting It on the Table

The hardest thing to do is to ask for help when you can’t fathom why you need it.

This has been a struggle for most of my life. In one form or another, I have always shied away from help.  It made me feel weak and worthless; as though I didn’t have the power to stand on my own feet. I have had people helping me since my earliest memories without justification.  I’m disabled, not broken, I can do it.  Well, in fact, I do and have felt broken a lot in the past. My belief that I was put

in the wrong body, led down the wrong path and quite possibly, given the wrong support team has cultivated my modern day depression/anxiety cocktail.  Drowning in pills and knife play has burrowed its way into the background of my life–for which I have grown accustomed, but feel guilty at the same time.

My strive for perfection has always been a hindrance to my personal and social growth.  The ideology that I have created; this creed to never make the same mistake twice overwhelms me with pressure and now the blurred lines I have crossed with certain loved ones have left me lonely and confused.

I believe that I have been preconditioned to see only the negative in everything that I or anyone else does.  The belief that I’m so great is a facade for the fact that I’m scared of everything in life.  The anger I utilized as fuel to push my way out is the same emotion I used to keep me stagnate.  The secret belief of feeling undeserving of love, the inability to start/finish anything I am truly passionate about consistent adds to my inability to relate to others until it’s too late.

The biggest problem I have is that I am objectively aware that I have a problem without a true means to find solace or resolution–whichever is easiest to find that I live happily with.  Even with a therapist who listens and cares, I am missing something that I have been looking for my entire existence, self-acceptance.  I have learned that neither a girlfriend, boyfriend, lover, friend, family member, therapist or medicine can provide me wholly.  This one is my sole responsibility that I try hard everyday, not to let take me to the dark, deep hole I can’t crawl out from.

I used to think I didn’t need help. That I was strong enough everything thrown at me. I am wise enough to know better, through trial and error, love and lost.  I have reached out for help, it just hasn’t reached back.



This freight train hasn’t stopped
for lovely romance scattering
hearts on the tracks
as I blaze by
I’ve tried to pull this brake
but I fear derailment

though age as slowed
me down physically
my mind moves fast in confusion
headed straight for its last destination

the town of Lonelyville

Journal Entry #22

For so long I have used my love for another as a base or guage on how well I’m doing in life.  This has caused me to be unfulfilled and, in a lot of cases, miss out on what life has had to offer me, including true love.  It hurts me to know that because of my lack of self-appreciation and holding myself to such a high, unattainable standard, I have forced some really great people to think that I’m not worth the struggle.  My rage has left me broken and lonely, but for so long, it was the only emotion that gave me true peace; the sense that no one could hurt me. However, I see how much I was hurting me. Ruining chance after chance to be loved by not only someone else, but by me.

As I climb this mountain, sweating and out of breath, I know the real battle is at the top.  This is what I have waited for, but avoided.  This is where I see just how much I can endure; just how much I can allow myself to love me. This is where I prove to myself life isn’t that bad and I can have real friends, real love within myself and for others.  The true test that will define me.

Examination of Happiness

Examination of Happiness

Layers pulled
back by vise grips
exposing the bloodied
entrails of deceit
and screams heard
in the monastery
where I resided
in previous lives
where peace for breakfast
was a norm I couldn’t bare

this messy breakdown
of substances placed
in buckets posing
as pill bottles complete
with instructions
on best intentions leave

a dent in my masculinity
no longer proud and true
fundamentals fallen
through the rift of relying
on my inhibitors

in a trance
neatly nailed
to my own indiscretions
I hang limp waiting
for my execution

Mending Heart

Mending Heart

distrust, racism, and rage allowed love to slip
through closed fists
slick like lotion melting
off sides as her hot romances come over to play

I donned the hat of fool drenched
in night sweats
envisioning her entangled
in someone else’s spoon
scooped out my heart thrown against the wall shattered spending months to place
its pieces back together perfectly

put down thoughts of our unborn on the shelf sits
the proposal I wasted
broken cylinders holding
what I called our life has found
its resting place in the trash

no longer counting hours or days completed my 12 steps curing
the addiction of Sunshine
that almost killed me

without her intoxication
I’m able to breathe
tear-free most days
but I can live
with the residue of you
so long I can comprehend
my past hasn’t outlined
my future hiding
behind the fact that even now she can’t be a friend when I need
her most
without a sexual reference
I still care
I’m just no longer there being bludgeoned
by hatred and burned emotion

I thrive on luck, throwing
pennies in wishing wells for comfort and strength sending
a slice of happiness her way
while smiling in the dark

Weak Moments #1

Weak Moments #1

at times

when the overcast
of polluted skies become
too much to bear
I reach for you

breathing in Chicago’s smog
clouding my judgment
I believe I need you

functioning solely
on the day to day pouring
rains that flood
Stoney Island’s viaducts
I cry for you

when the Sunshine
of my life is missing
dawn seems to be overlooked
a sunset too
not casting it’s normal red/orange hues
my mind’s dark as midnight
as my flesh bleeds for you

due to my sins
I deserve to be punished
life whips me bare
my clothes fallen

outstretched in this darkness chained to the stock
awaiting my execution

for deeds you can’t forgive